So much for an easy first job.

Demise had run this playbook before: A quiet heist conducted while the city's heroes were busy elsewhere. Pacify the local civilians, collect whatever item had attracted her attention, and leave quickly and quietly. A clean first job. She'd learned from her previous mistake. Experience had sanded down the rough edges of her procedure until even a heroic response didn't phase her. She'd dismissed Thundriana in less than 3 minutes when she attempted to stop her in Eagleton. She'd put the Pale Strider in the hospital for trying to keep her from snatching the Rabanastre Diamond. Heroes were goofy, sanctimonious, predictable. Barely even worth her time.

She'd assumed the same of the fierce looking Black man in the red and white armor who'd accosted her in the R&D facility of the Meritron Building. He was tall, muscular, and as cocky as the rest. Demise remembered yawning before dropping the stellar engine she'd stolen into the starry abyss of her coat. She'd barely felt anything at all when she'd cast her favorite spell and hurled toward him. Malus Meteora sent her flying through the air and to take her target down with meteoric force. Despite her knees on his shoulders and the solar powered superhero's warm face between her thick thighs, Demise had barely felt anything at all. Heatstroke, as he'd introduced himself, was uncommonly attractive, but she remained unconvinced that he was uncommonly smart or strong. Defeating him, embarrassing him, would be like going through the motions, and she wouldn't feel anything at all doing so. It was all so mundane.

---

Heatstroke checked the information on his phone one more time before he landed on the ground: a lone metahuman, hostile, no known accomplices, involved in a robbery. Several reports of injuries and property damage, but no fatalities. By all accounts it was the exact kind of situation he excelled at solving quickly and simply. He'd run in there, let his or his squad's reputation precede him, and then, if he was lucky, get to fight a little besides. The thought spread a smile across his brown face as he leapt through the air. The superhero gripped the high collar of his chestpiece with both gloved hands as the ground raced up towards him. Heatstroke grunted with the impact of his boots along the concrete, taking a few running steps to gather himself like a plane landing on the tarmac. He'd gotten more accurate with his massive leaps across town, but timing his solar powers to soften the landing was often more trouble than it solved. Instead he skidded across the asphalt, trying not to warm it beneath him with each step.

It wasn't hard to distinguish which building had been hit: the block had only one building whose facade looked like some giant beast had taken a bite out of its second floor. Debris littered the floor outside the building, and he considered whether to use the front door or enter via the hole that someone else had already made. The latter made more sense, and glass crunched beneath his laced boots as he looked around.